


We Could Blame It All On Human Nature

by thegoodthebadandthenerdy



Series: Pynch Drabbles [3]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Bickering, First Kiss, M/M, Pre-Relationship, also whats a timeline bc apparently idk her, chainsaw's out here working miracles tbh, lowkey character study, this is stupidly soft im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 22:10:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12969465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegoodthebadandthenerdy/pseuds/thegoodthebadandthenerdy
Summary: Ronan had this thing where any time he was around Adam Parrish, he didn't know how to keep his mouth shut because if he did he might do something stupid.Apparently, that extended past keeping his mouth shut.





	We Could Blame It All On Human Nature

**Author's Note:**

> title and inspiration from coin's talk too much (listen to it, it's Amazing, also a true pynch song if i've ever heard one)

Ronan had this thing where sometimes (most of the time,) he didn't know when to shut the hell up.

He often implored it high on adrenaline and the smell of gasoline and dreams, when engines were revving and boys with cigarettes between their teeth threw money around like it was going out of style.

At school, around boys in too tight ties, reeking of mommy and daddy's washed up funds and outdated rhetorics, where a silencing glare was followed by a silencing fist.

When Declan and his high horse trotted into town to try and reconcile a future for Ronan in some stuffy office out in Washington.

After Gansey had smoothed out one mess and Ronan needed some new wrinkles - that was more often than Ronan liked to Admit.

But Ronan's seemingly favored time to implore this particular skill was with Adam.

If Ronan's special quality was pushing and pushing, then Adam's was falling. 

It was it's own brand of high, pushing Adam Parrish over the edge.

When Kavinsky and his goons responded with unaffected threats, and his classmates with fists, when Declan dredged up old shit that Ronan was moving past and Gansey just tried to reason with him, there was Adam.

Adam, with lashing words and no tolerance for Ronan's bullshit. Adam - who had never laid a hand on Ronan and never would, but still left him feeling bruised.

Adam, who was a raging fire for Ronan's raging fire.

Adam, who Ronan loved so deeply that it scared him.

From the day Ronan and Adam had met one another, they'd pissed one another off like no one else could. Locked in under one another's skin and refused to let go. Coursed through each other's veins and filled one another's heads dizzyingly.

Every bullet they slung with bared teeth and poised tongues was made on an even playing field - and Ronan, while many things, tried not to be morally unfair. In Adam, Ronan saw an equal.

Adam, like Ronan, was someone busted and broken who wouldn't give up because life told him to. And that thrilled Ronan, because all of his life, Ronan had looked for a match. And it came to him in the form of a dusty boy with dirt under his nails and gasoline stains on his clothes and a crooked smile that made his heart race.

All these things culminated into Ronan never being able to shut up around Adam. It always seemed to end in Adam at one extreme or the other - infinitely amused or seemingly unendingly angry.

They never stayed mad at one another long, though - never truly angry in the first place - and always found themselves pulled back together by the end of the day.

Some part of Ronan, he supposed, the angry, relentless, wounded animal part was pushing to see how long it took for Adam to leave. That part was larger than he'd like to admit, but twistedly, he needed to know- what was Adam's limit, when would he leave like everyone else?

But another part of Ronan, the quieter part that he stuffed down to the pit of his stomach and only let loose when he was alone, pushed to see if Adam would just catch on already, to see if he would choose to stay even after he realized Ronan's feelings, to see if he was different, to see if he was worth all the heartache afterall (Ronan thought Adam was worth anything in life, but that was something he tended not to think about often, lest it manifest in his words or in his dreams.)

Currently, Adam stood across from where Ronan lay flopped across Monmouth's inviting couch. Chainsaw rose from Ronan's shoulder and hopped over to the boy to greet him loudly and affectionately.

Adam looked up from where he had his head bowed over the bag slung across his body, and offered the bird a small smile. When she pulled herself up onto his shoulder, he offered her a few soft scrubs in the place between her wings that she loved so much.

After that, she dug her talons into the shoulder of his light coat, more careful to not rip it than she was with Ronan's clothes, and rode along on his shoulder as he busied himself with tugging papers and books out of his disorganized bag as he headed farther into the building to flop down in the chair across from Ronan.

As papers fluttered down around from his loose grip, Ronan inspected them. Each seemed to bear different handwriting, from well set and upheld to a frantic slant that Ronan could barely follow without getting dizzy.

"Raid a teacher's desk for everyone else's papers or what, Parrish. This handwriting's horrific and surely can't belong to such a star pupil," Ronan quipped, plucking one up and gazing over it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Adam flipping him off with one hand as he arranged papers with the other. "Asshole," he bit back playfully with a half-hidden, taunting grin.

Admittedly, that was true. Ronan knew, as did Noah and Gansey and the entire Aglionby faculty, that Adam Parrish had the handwriting of four different people at any given moment. And it didn't change week to week, not even day to day, it was sentence by sentence - hell, word by word if he was tired.

Ronan found it weirdly endearing - and then he was thoroughly disgusted with himself because for _God's sake_ it was just _handwriting_.

"So," Adam said, not bothering to look up. "Have you spent the entire day trying to fully incorporate yourself into the fabric of the couch or what?"

"As opposed to what? No wait, your dork ass is going to say something like 'bettering yourself in the hallowed halls of Aglionby, School for-"

"Rich asshats who take joy in giving me migraines," Adam supplied blandly. "You fit right in, Lynch, maybe they'd let you teach a class if you deigned to show up once in a while."

If it had been Gansey, or Noah, or one of the aforementioned Aglionby Asshats, Ronan would have felt rage deep in his belly. Would have pitched a fit. Would have stormed out or braced for impact.

But it was Adam.

Ronan just barked an amused laugh and beckoned Chainsaw back to him.

The bird nipped at the top of Adam's ear gently, giving a good tug in Ronan's direction.

"He called for you, not me," Adam told her very seriously, sparing her a glance.

Chainsaw very pointedly glared at Adam.

Ronan thought that if she could sigh and/or roll her eyes, she'd spend 80% of her life doing so, only using the other 20% to destroy whatever shit she came upon.

Finally, after another sharp tug, Adam relented. "Your bird's as much a brat as you are," he told Ronan as he grabbed all the stuff piled in his lap and moved to the end of the couch, where, without thinking, Ronan shuffled to make room for him.

Chainsaw gave Ronan as much of a self-satisfied look as a dream bird could give as she finally hopped down from Adam's shoulder and up Ronan's leg.

She nestled herself against his chest, where he muttered a quick string of curses at her - which he earned a stinging peck for against his collarbone - and set off into a peaceful enough fake-slumber (because she didn't actually need to sleep and only did so when she was ignoring him.)

It took them twenty minutes of bickering and shifting, but finally they found comfortable positions for both their long sets of legs and Adam's seemingly never-ending stack of papers.

Adam pressed his hand into his cheek, darkly tanned skin and darker freckles shifting upward toward the soft gold hair of his temples.

A red pen found its way between his teeth, and he gnawed on it silently in between scratching out revisions to his paper - which Ronan knew he would stay up late that night to painstakingly rewrite in his best handwriting - for what seemed like hours but was probably only forty-five minutes.

In that time, Ronan kept up a steady stream of unnecessary commentary, trying to ignore how _good_ Adam looked and how _domestic_ that thought was. 

He could watch as Adam's jaw tightened with the too close comments, as his shoulders loosened and his laughter was pushed down with the foolish sidenotes. Sometimes, his cheeks would impossibly darken with the comments that toed the line into territory they'd never dared to explore.

Those comments always slipped out before Ronan could think better of them, the drag of his tongue against his teeth begging for Adam to catch on as his conscious had a melt down in the background.

Most of them could be blamed on Ronan having very little boundaries, and mostly not caring about what he said to who, but with the rate they seemed to slip past his lips in the presence of Adam, it was either a ridicule or a suggestion.

At first, Ronan observed, Adam took them as the former. When no other type of jab would illicit a retort, these would - without fail, these would.

As the hours went on, and Adam's fingers moved from flicking the pen across the page to frustratingly running his fingers through his hair and dodging any eye contact Ronan attempted to make, Ronan could feel his resolve slipping.

Finally, when Adam couldn't even do his work, when he kept rereading the same two words over and over, when he wouldn't stop licking his lips and had a look on his face that was either uncomfortable or deep thinking, he spat out, "You never shut up, do you, Lynch?"

Ronan grinned wolfishly, there was something sarcastic and Ronan-like on the edge of his lips, Adam would laugh and make a biting comment and his shoulders would relax and they'd continue on with their night-

"Maybe I'm waiting for you to take a hint and shut me up yourself."

Shit.

Ronan had this thing where any time he was around Adam Parrish, he didn't know how to keep his mouth shut because if he did he might do something stupid. 

Apparently, that extended past keeping his mouth shut.

Adam shuffled around, shuffling each stack of paper into an organization that Ronan knew he'd never understand, no matter how hard he tried, and dropped them into his bag in a manner that was too fast and too slow all in one.

Shit, shit, shit. 

Finally looking at Ronan with those stupid, honest eyes that crinkled around the edges when he was feeling one emotion particularly fully, Adam raised an eyebrow slightly.

Ronan shot upright, dislodging Chainsaw from where she rested against his chest. "I meant-" he began, because again, when does he ever _shut up_ , but he quickly bit his tongue when Adam's eyes closed tiredly and he leaned forward to bump his nose against Ronan's playfully as he said, "I know what you meant, Ronan," a gesture to test the waters.

Ronan didn't even have a second to contemplate the fact that Adam called him _Ronan_ and not Lynch or some variation of _asshole_ before there were rough, callused hands on the sides of his face.

"Like this, yeah?" Adam asked, that stupid, crooked smile fastening itself to his lips as he leaned impossibly closer into Ronan's personal space, waiting for an invitation.

Hoarsely, "You could try it, I guess." Ronan couldn't bite his tongue on that one, no matter how close Adam's lips are.

Adam's smile became a soft, ridiculous grin, and Ronan couldn't tell if he said or if he laughed, "You just never know when to shut up, do you, Lynch?"

"No," Ronan replied, always the one to have the last word.

Adam closed the space between them, fingers curling against Ronan's skin as their lips finally met after so, so long of being apart. Ronan's hands floundered, unsure of where they were supposed to go until Adam breathed a laugh against Ronan's lips (which made Ronan even more so dizzy than he already was) and pushed them to his hips.

Ronan pulled him closer, impossibly closer, fingers gentle where they pressed lightly into the fabric of his worn t-shirt.

Ronan thought his game was pushing and Adam's waa falling, but when they sat like this, lips uncertainly, but happily pressed together in an open account of trading - breaths, heartbeats, gentle and unsure touches - Ronan thought maybe all along it was what he was meant to do, what he had been searching for his whole life.

Falling.

Falling for Adam Parrish

**Author's Note:**

> Mutual Pynch Bickering™ is so underappreciated and under-used tbh
> 
> hmu on tumblr @luluthelich with songs/prompts as i journey through learning how to write for trc on my way to finally conquering that big pynch fic i want to write


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